Lucinda saw the church from the top of the hill, harsh and glaring in the sunlight. It is a monstrosity, she thought. A vanity.
It has brought me here. It has sucked me in to this dreadful place, just like Hasset. She saw the steeple, thrust defiantly into the air. She saw the panes of glass shining iridescent through the iron like a bubble of soap. Oscar, she thought. He has brought me here.
This made her smile; she made her way down the hill. She could feel her skirts catching on bushes, tangling; it didn't matter. She must hurry; she will surprise him.
The land around the church was curiously empty, the church itself stuck out like an island. Lucinda stopped to catch her breath. She saw glass on the ground, on the floor inside, broken, fragmented. The door was wedged shut; she had to brace herself against the ground as she pulled at the bars (it was suddenly important that she get inside).
The heat inside was oppressive, magnified by the lens of the walls. The remaining glass in them was jagged, torn. It is a prison, she thought, shivering despite the heat. Lucinda saw the chair on its side, fallen, empty. And she understood.
Broken, she thought. Lucinda sat down amongst the glass shards and waited for the end.
